Random as a Blaster
by shawngrady
Summary: Following the destruction of the second Death Star, Mon Mothma has tasked Luke Skywalker with the recovery of an ancient Jedi artifact— The Foci Cylinder. Has he been sent on a fool's errand to occupy his mind after witnessing his father's redemption and death? The last thing thing the fledgling New Republic needs is a distraught Jedi...


"R2, make the calculations for the jump to light speed."

An explosion rocked the hull of the X-Wing, knocking my fingers from the nav computer dial. Another plasma bolt too close for comfort —courtesy of a deep space TIE patrol hot on my tail.

"Status, R2?"

A series of sarcastic beeps followed. The readout in green BASIC on the small dash monitor translated.

"No." I craned my neck, glancing over my shoulders. "I know the calc's aren't done yet. I mean that last hit. What's the damage report?"

A flash of light. I grimaced and fought the stick. Beads of sweat rolled between my temples and the helmet lining.

Sassy astromech sounds replied, _Then why did you not specify that the first time?_

I banked the X-wing hard and dove. Green streaks flew past, disappearing into space. Leia did mention that R2 took high voltage on the forest moon of Endor. Mental note, get him a circuit calibration and a long oil bath once we reached Coruscant.

 _If_ we reached Coruscant.

Another explosion. The cockpit shuddered.

R2's alphanumeric readout scrolled information. Damage to a landing skid mechanism and— I twisted the X-Wing into a corkscrew then righted —skid mechanism and… the secondary impulse drive. Shields at twenty-six percent. All systems operational otherwise. I shook my head and blinked. Shouldn't try to read and fly.

A whistle and chirp, Calculations done.

"Atta boy, R2. Let's get out of—"

Another TIE —this one a black Interceptor— bore down on our twelve like a sandhawk, glowing talons extended.

I yanked back the stick and pinned the throttle. R2 screamed. The star-ground spun outside the canopy and we yawed away from the energy bolts.

I leveled the ship and blew out a breath. Familiar star clusters helped me catch my bearings. "You still with me, R2?"

A warbled blurp and the "clear-to-jump" light blinked on the dash. I smiled, flipped up the switch cover and tapped the toggle.

"Let's hope you didn't fry any galaxy mapping circuits or —what is it Han says?" I grasped the hyperdrive levers and swallowed. "'Or this is gonna be a real short trip.'"

I pulled back on the cylinders and a million points of light stretched past the X-wing, sucking us into a swirling sapphire sea.

...

A roiling Coruscant wind snaked into my hood and down my back, cooling the skin between my shoulder blades. The incessant hum of speeders echoed off an endless sprawl of skyscrapers. My lightsaber knocked against my thigh, concealed by my robe. I steadied it with a hand and squinted through the glinting amber reflections of the rising Coruscant Prime. Massive holovids cycled images of the Death Star explosion and riots erupting in the outer districts of the planet. These were interspersed with short clips of the Emperor purportedly addressing massive crowds of loyalists and stormtroopers. Coruscant teetered on total chaos, but the financial hub I now strode along remained under Imperial control. Biker Scouts hovered in pairs at intersections, sitting perhaps a bit more erect than usual.

I slipped into a narrow vestibule, sheltered from the wind and the eyes of the city, and pulled a holodisc from my pocket. A Bothan appeared in the image projected from my upright palm, his long pointed ears framing his squarish snout. An ornate braid lay beside the lengths of his beard. I had hoped to study this message in more detail during the flight through the Corellian System, before I stepped on that rock hornet's nest of Tie Fighters.

The vid flipped with static. "Find the Ilsemar Financial Tower. One hundred and fifty-seventh floor. Outer Rim Holdings. Deposit box three-four belonging to Senraith Wendba, a wealthy art trader who deals in rarities with exclusive buyers. Mostly Imperials. His assets are secured by a rotating series of complex encryption codes. The algorithms are too intricate for your R2 unit's SCOMP interface so we've arranged for an Alliance contact on Coruscant to provide you with the specific code cylinder needed to access the computer input port for the box. Inside that box, you will find the Jedi artifact."

He glanced aside and Mon Mothma appeared in the image, her close cropped hair and ivory robe lending a regal appearance. "Your mission, Commander Skywalker, is to retrieve the artifact known as the Foci Cylinder. You should know that this opportunity is fleeting at best. The Cylinder will not remain with Wendba long." She brought her hands together inside her long sleeves. "The significance of this find cannot be understated. The Emperor longed for decades to get his hands upon it. The information obtained by these Bothans is fresh, only now coming to light as the Empire cracks at every seam." She lowered her eyes for a moment. "Your communications ability with the Alliance fleet will be marginal to non-existent. You will be very much on your own in this. I could not have asked for anyone more qualified for this mission, Luke. May the Force be with you."

I drew a deep breath and clicked off the holodisc. _The Foci Cylinder_. My thoughts trailed to Dagobah, swinging from vine to vine with Yoda clawing to my back. Day after day he whispered in my ear stories of old, secret knowledge of times long past. The bubbling swamp, massive mossy tree limbs, chest heaving, bogwings cawing and shrieking through the mist, his gravely voice elucidating, _Plundered from the Jedi Temple it was, in the fall of the Old Republic. Contained the wisdom of the ancient masters —for the one who could decipher it._

A sudden shadow filled my mind.

I spun, flipping the robe away from my thigh. A pale skinned Twi'lek stopped in step, a sublight engine-length away. His lekku head tails swayed and his red irises flicked to the lightsaber hanging from my belt.

He waved long nailed fingers and spoke with a thick accent. "Brother Fortuna should have realized your power when first you met."

"Fortuna?" My eyes narrowed. "From Jabba's palace."

He grinned with rows of sharpened teeth. "Bib was a fool to remain in the service of a gangster. Even the Hutt's had their day. Thanks to you. Sky-walker."

I looked him over from head to toe. No visible weapons. Hands empty. His lekku dangled —not wrapped about his shoulders. Otherwise he could be Bib Fortuna's twin.

Inside, his mind felt murky, like hidden caves in the swamp. "So, have you come to avenge your brother's death?"

He sneered. "He was the flip side of a chance cube. My life lived otherwise." He scanned the alleyway. "I miss him not."

He stepped closer and I straightened, hand still hovering over the saber hilt.

He held up two bony fingers and a thumb, widened his eyes, and retrieved an object from his belt. "Tell me, what piece of art is so precious that the Rebellion sends a Jedi to retrieve it?" He twirled a code cylinder in the air.

 _He was the Alliance contact?_

I studied him, sensing that his curiosity was sincere. He was just one power coupling in a ship-wide system. I extended a hand.

"Take not." He gripped the code cylinder tight. "Credits first."

I felt a temptation to force his hand open and float the key over. The urge surprised me. _Such is not the way of the Jedi._ I smiled, pulled out a pouch full of credits and tossed it to him.

He emptied the small satchel into his hand and his face soured. "Alliance credits? You think I can buy anything with this?"

I shook my head. "Don't believe the holovids. The Empire is finished."

He winced, eyes darting around. "You should mind what you speak."

"Vader is dead. And so is the Emperor."

He lowered his voice. "How could you know for sure?"

The Emperor's gnarled electric fingers flashed through my mind. His menacing face. Pain like a lightning rod. R2 was not the only one who took high voltage at the Battle of Endor.

"Believe me, I know."

He bared his teeth. "I do not believe you."

Turbolifts careened up the building sides. The light of Coruscant Prime angulated shadows high above the alleyway. I didn't have time for this.

I waved two fingers in the air. "You love Alliance credits. They're your favorite."

He looked down at the chips and his eyes grew wide. "Alliance credits."

"Yes."

"These are my favorite."

I held out my palm.

He stared at it.

I nodded. "The code cylinder?"

He seemed to notice it in his other hand for the first time. "Of course. Yes, yes. Here it is."

I tucked it in my belt. "How did you come by this?"

He grinned. "Senraith Wendba is known for his parties, and his affinity for Corellian brandy. Absconding an item of value is my specialty, when the outside price is right." He glanced at the credit chips and then did a double take.

"You better tuck those away somewhere safe."

He dropped the chips into a deep pocket and frowned. "You will need more than the Force to reach that box." He took steps backwards. "It lies ensconced in Empire-grade security. That code key is a bygone tradition. A status symbol at social gatherings. Outer Rim Holding's calling card, little more. If the mighty Rebellion could not discern even that much, then I have scant hope for its future." He grabbed the edge of his cloak and strode out of the alleyway.

I fingered the code cylinder in my belt and clenched my teeth. Bothan intel had always been reliable. But lately things had been moving at lightspeed. Subtleties could be missed in haste.

I was beginning to think that Mon Mothma had tasked me with recovery of the artifact only in part because the iron was hot. There could be other advantages to sending me off on a womprat chase. She wanted to keep my mind and body occupied, to somehow shelter me from the gravity of the events of the past week.

I'd seen my father reborn, and then watched him die —all in the space of a few breaths. I was now the sole embodiment of a powerful and mysterious order. An imbalance in the Force had been created and the last thing the fledgling New Republic needed was a distraught Jedi. Her mission was clear. Save me from the emotional fallout, save the Alliance from me.

She never said any of that, of course, but I could sense it now. Her heart toward me was full of gratitude, tempered by a stern wariness. Just as a wise leader should be, I supposed.

I pulled a comlink from my belt. "R2, how're things with that landing mechanism?"

He sounded a reply. I slid back my sleeve and read the translation in BASIC across the flexible viewscreen wrapped on my forearm.

I sighed. "What do you mean there's no struts to replace it with? Just seal the leak and refill the hydraulic reservoir."

R2D2 warbled and beeped.

I read and nodded. "Yes, I'm sure the hangar maintenance droid will give you access to the fluid barrels. Look, right now I need more information on the Ilsemar Tower."

R2 had been working on the X-Wing in an "off the map" smuggling hangar on the outskirts of the shipping district —courtesy of coordinates given to us by Han before we left the fleet. Even with the half deployed landing skid, I'd been able to set her down softly, nose now angled toward the floor. But we needed to be able to at least retract that gear in order to make the jump back to hyperspace out of here.

The holodisc hummed. I lifted it to see a projected three-dimensional image of the building I now stood outside of. The engineering systems —turbolifts, landing pads, ventilation ducts— glowed a brighter white blue within the image. Security devices and patrols glowed red. My destination, Outer Rim Holdings on floor 157, pulsated with a green light.

"Just what I was looking for. Monitor my progress and advise me of any security movements along the way. I'll need a constantly updated primary and secondary means of escape based on my coordinates."

He whistled an aye, aye and then sounded a question.

I smiled. "Yeah, I could, and it would be a lot of work, too." I pocketed the holodisc and slipped back my hood. "But I'm thinking I'll just walk right in, old Ben Kenobi style."

R2 wooed.

"That doesn't sound like a vote of confidence. You know, there is something to be said for hiding in plain sight. Don't worry."

A tone and bleep.

I glanced at the readout and laughed. "No, I don't think there'll be any rancor monsters in there."

He spat a digital rumble.

"That's not what I said last time. Look—" I rubbed my neck and glanced skyward at the turbolifts. "What if I at least hitched a lift ride from here straight to the floor below our destination?"

An acquiescing tone.

"It's settled then." I pulled an ascension gun from the back of my belt and adjusted the magnetic tip. "Let's get us that artifact and be home with the fleet in time for dinner."


End file.
